


The Dark Brotherhood

by SnowElfDragon95



Series: Usaeleí of the Shadows [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), F/M, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Monsters, Multi, Other, Thieves Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowElfDragon95/pseuds/SnowElfDragon95
Summary: Usaeleí, now a member of the Dark Brotherhood, begins his life as an assassin-in-training. He quickly forms a bond with Veezara who trains him on how to be a Shadowscale. Taking small missions, the lycandrake enjoys this work but discovers that soon that the Dread Father has other plans for not just him but for the Keeper as well...
Relationships: Brynjolf/Female Khajiit Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Listener (Elder Scrolls), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Miraak, Original Argonian Character(s)/Original Khajiit Character(s) (Elder Scrolls)
Series: Usaeleí of the Shadows [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738987
Kudos: 12





	1. Friends Like These...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usaeleí meets Astrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING INTENSE BLOOD AND GORE  
> You have been warned.

Usaeleí glanced once more at the woman then back at the hostages. He made a deep chuffing sound as he quietly approached the Khajiit. He pressed his scaly snout in the crook of the Cat’s neck and inhaled deeply, noting the nervous shudder the feline made. He smelt of old blood, silver and arousal. From the looks of things, the Argonian confirmed that he was an old thief whose luck had run out. Usaeleí’s jaws clamped around the Khajiit’s throat, keeping him silent as his fangs, slowly crushed and pierced through the furry throat. The Khajiit tried to thrash about, but as he was bond, he could not do much. Soon the twitching stopped and Usaeleí tore off the Cat’s formal shirt then using his sharp claws, made a precise incision on the dying Khajiit’s rib cage before prying it open, the symphony of cracking bone making the lycandrake salivate as he impatiently wrapped his fangs around the still faintly pulsing heart. He violently ripped the organ out hungrily with his jaws, swallowing it whole. He wiped his snout with his arm, his mismatched eyes silently admiring the trickling red rain drops falling from his maw before he shook his head, white scales now stained pink.

He moved silently on all fours towards the Imperial and slowly circled her like a wolf around a rabbit. He flicked his tongue, watching it graze her cheek and she growled at him. “I don’t have time for this nonsense! I have a home to keep and six children to feed!” The Imperial snarled and the lycandrake stopped then cocked his head to the side in amusement. The woman’s heart spiked when she said that. “I believe you are lying.” Usaeleí hummed bringing his tail around to lift the woman’s chin. She trembled at his words. “Ri...ridiculous! I would not lie about that!” She insisted but her heart spiked once more. Nope. It was quick, his tail was slightly barbed after all. It sliced through the woman’s throat like butter. She fell backwards, gargling as the blood sprayed from the wound. He left her body twitching in agony. He removed her blindfold and stared intently in her flickering green eyes, blood overflowing from her lips as his mismatched eyes watched, unfeeling as the light of life was snuffed out.

Finally, he stood before the Nord mercenary and sniffed his head. Blood, steel, leather and a whole barrel of mead. Usaeleí pulled his head back reeling from the horrible mixture of scents. He sneezed before raking his claws against the man’s torso, hooking them so that they would tear through the taut muscled body. He chuffed once more, as he pounced the bound man, biting, tearing, clawing in to the exposed flesh as the ‘warrior’ screamed and begged for mercy but was silenced when a soft squelch sounded followed by the snapping of ropes or in this case, artery veins, his heart clenched between the lizard’s teeth. Effortless, he tossed the beating thing up high and snapped it out of the air before swallowing it contently. He then started to clean up the blood from his claws with his tongue. 

“Well, well. Aren’t we the overachiever?” The woman slowly clapped her hands which brought the lycandrake from his stupor and he spun around to face her. She had removed her hood to reveal that she was a Nord woman. Very beautiful. Like something from a painting in a Dibellian Temple, with her flawless skin, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She gestured towards the corpses behind him. “I must say you have a knack for this business.” Usaeleí rolled his eyes. _You told me to kill, and I killed._ He thought to himself while tracking the woman’s movements as she hopped down the bookcase to approach him. His eyes narrowed into slits; his lips curled back displaying his long fangs and an angry warning growl left his maw. The woman produced a key catching him off-guard and he swore he saw her smiling in the darkness. She then beckoned him to follow her in which the lycandrake did but warily. 

“What is your name?” She asked him as she unlocked the door.

“Usaeleí...”

Once outside, Usaeleí had to shield his eyes from the sun’s reflection on the water. After his eyes adjusted to the brighter surroundings, the lycandrake found that someone else was with the woman, whom he now learned was called Astrid, and he bristled his spines. Beside a large, lean pitch-black stallion, sitting upon a dapple-grey mare, was large burly man with shoulder length white hair that had a single braid on one side of his head and short white beard.

“Will you be traveling with us, Brother?” Astrid asked reaching for the reins of the black stallion who nickered softly and the woman turned to see the Argonian and the man glaring at each other. Usaeleí had caught the man’s scent. He was a werewolf. “Arnbjorn? Do you two have a history?” Astrid questioned her companion. They both shook their heads but refused to look at her. 

“You’re moon-born too, aren’t you Scales?” The Nord man growled defensively.

“None of your damn business, Dog.” Usaeleí hissed back. 

“All right. That’s enough, children.” Astrid ordered then elbowed Arnbjorn in the ribs lightly. “You two will have to get along now... Understood, husband?” The burly man grumbled but nodded as he dismounted the mare and climbed up behind his mate. Usaeleí, realizing that the two were waiting for him, pulled himself on to the mare’s saddle. Three days on the road, the trio made camp along the road. While Arnbjorn hunted for their meal, Astrid was drying her hair when she noticed the snowy Argonian curled up close to the crackling fire, the red and orange flames turning his scales a pale yellow and pink. “So,” She began and Usaeleí opened one eye to acknowledge her presence, “Arnbjorn mentioned something about you being a werewolf. Is this true?” 

Usealeí groaned irritated as he looked into the raging flames of the fire. “I prefer the term ‘lycandrake’ over ‘werewolf’. I grow spikes instead of fur.” He thumped his tail against the ground as Arnbjorn returned with some deer meat. The two growled slightly at each other but nothing more. “Veezara will happy to have another Argonian within our fold.” The blonde commented as she and Arnbjorn shared their meat. The name was definitely Saxheel and it peaked Usaeleí’s interest.

“Veezara?” The Argonian inquired curiously.  
“Another lizard like you. He’s been rather mopey lately” The werewolf growled as he chucked Usaeleí a portion of the meat at him. Arnbjorn grumbled when the lycandrake snapped it out of the air with a smirk on his reptilian face, the meat dangling from his teeth. He then gripped it with his claws.

“Why?” 

Astrid and her husband glanced at each other before responding, “About a month ago, we lost his egg-sister to a mage. She dispatched the coward but they perished together after receiving grievous wounds. Veezara hasn’t been the same since.”

Usaeleí’s spines drooped sadly. He knew that feeling. He was almost done with his ration when something nudged his back roughly followed by a snort. He tilted his head back to find the black stallion staring intently at him. His eyes were glowing like hot coals as he chuffed snatching the Argonian’s chunk of meat from his claws. “Hey! Give that back!” He hissed angrily watching the animal trot away proudly before blinking in disbelief as the horse crunched on the slab of venison contently. _Did that horse just eat MEAT?!?!_ The dapple mare whinnied skittishly but Astrid and Arnbjorn just snickered at the baffled lizard. 

“Did you get lycanthropy from the Companions?”

“No. I received it as a hatchling in Murkmire. Wait...” Usaeleí began before scratching his head then stared at the wolf, “Do you know Isilmé?” 

Arnbjorn’s dark blue eyes closed as he searched his memories then shook his head furrowing his brow. “ ’Fraid not. She must be new.”

“Is there a problem I should know about?” Astrid questioned in a tense voice. 

“As long as she and another are not harmed, you won’t have a problem with me. Isilmé and Khyeena are the only family I ever knew growing up. And” The Argonian growled low; making sure his fangs were showing, “if anything happens to them, _I WILL END YOU._ ” It was just as much as a promise as it was a threat. There was a tense silence around the fire between the three but Astrid Smiles, relaxed and relented. The Argonian took the first watch that night after dinner and while Arnbjorn and Astrid slept, he scouted the perimeter scaring off a few bold sabre cats and a lone bandit. Once dawn had broken across the horizon, Astrid and Arnbjorn woke to find Usaeleí saddling the stallion who was nipping his antlers. “Will you stop trying eat my horns?” He hissed gently pushing brute’s head away from his horns before he turned to ready the mare. Arnbjorn chuckled and took the brutes reins then helped his mate in to the saddle before hopping up behind her, his arm snaking around her middle. Usaeleí, already saddled up, followed the two silently.

They soon arrived in Falkreath, a hold absolutely brimming with dense forests and wildlife. Usealeí swore Isilmé would love the scenery. The trio wandered off the road towards a worn-down path leading to a steep slope where the lizard saw a small pond of black water resided. While Usaeleí stabled the mare into a stall within a well-hidden stable in a cavern, he witnessed the couple drop down from the brute’s saddle then watched the large horse vanish within the dark, churning water. He shook his head when Astrid called him over. He jogged over to her and Arnbjorn who were standing in a hidden cave facing a sinister looking door that suddenly whispered to his very soul and made his teeth chatter slightly.

_**What is the music of life?** _

“ _Silence_ my brother,” Astrid whispered back and she grinned when the door swung open. Eerie.

_**Welcome home...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought of Shadowmere looking like a hybrid of an Arabian horse and a Friesian horse. Lean, elegant and powerful. 
> 
> I also decided to make him a Kelpie.
> 
> To those who don't know the legend of the Kelpie. It is a mythical and malevolent horse usually black in color, that has been known in Scotland to drown and feast upon those who foolishly ride it near lakes, rivers and oceans HOWEVER if one was ever successful at taking their bridle or befriending them (a remarkable feat to be sure) would have a loyal steed for ages to come


	2. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usaeleí meets the rest of the Dark Brotherhood family

The muffled sounds of laughter reached Usaeleí’s ears as Arnbjorn and Astrid strolled past him and they walked down the stairs leading deeper into the massive cavern. He found a small child standing the center of the group overzealously reenacting some job for the others. He inhaled the new scents. Nightshade, blood and herbs from potions. There was a bitter taste of magic in the air as well. Blood magic too. He hissed lowly to himself as he followed Astrid to the group. There was a vampire alright. However, it was their affectionate bantering, teasing and compassion towards each other that caught him off-guard. He was not expecting such behavior from a small group of assassins. He winced slightly when Arnbjorn gave his shoulder a hard pat before heading towards a forge and he noticed the group had dispersed.“Come on. I’ll help you settle in.” Astrid gestured towards a stairway leading up to a chamber with beds scattered about. 

Usaeleí followed the blonde silently who then left him to get settled. After searching around, the lycandrake finally chose a bed close to the wall. He didn’t really have anything of value other than his pendant that clinked against his bare chest. Even his daggers were gone. He was only in his breeches, the same ones the mysterious Argonian he met had dressed him in and he shuddered. Sensing someone behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to find the child from earlier smiling up at him with a towel and clean clothes in her arms. He went rigid when he saw her glowing red eyes. “Hello. I’m Babette,” The young vampire child said with a toothy grin as she handed him the bundle. 

Cautiously, the lycandrake took them from her then nodded to her in thanks. He still did not trust vampires. Not since Morthal. “The men’s baths are down the stairs on right. Astrid suggests you get cleaned up before you meet everyone else. See you at dinner!” Babette giggled before skipping back down the hall where he could hear the sounds of plates and silverware being placed on a table. Well, he could use a proper bath.

Following the vampire’s instructions, the pale Argonian managed to find a large hot spring like pool and he closed the door behind him. Stripping free from his dirty breeches, Usaeleí slowly sank in to the warm water chuffing in delight. By Sithis, the water felt good on his sore muscles. He completely submerged himself under the water and exhaled, watching the bubbles rise to the surface where he noticed dark silhouette and he narrowed his eyes. Resurfacing, Usaeleí was stunned to find that another Argonian with dark emerald green scales had fully undressed and was more than a little surprised to find the pale lycandrake staring back at him.

“Astrid did mention we received a new Brother, but she never mentioned that you were an Argonian.” The other Argonian scratched his head the motioned at the bath, silently requesting to join. Usaeleí moved to the other side of the pool. Once the other male had settled in to the bath, his golden green eyes glanced at the lycandrake. “My name is Veezara. Last of the Shadowscales. What is your name _biko_?” The green lizard introduced himself extending his hand towards Usaeleí. Usaeleí gripped Veezara’s hand, a weak smile forming on his face. “Call me Usaeleí, _biko_.” He answered. The two continued to wash up for supper. Veezara got out first, changing into some fresh linens and Usaeleí followed suit. “I’m surprised that you understand and speak Saxhleel. Are you from Black Marsh?” The Shadowscale questioned as the two walked down the hall towards the delightful smells of roasted meat. Usaeleí smiled and nodded. “ _Xhu_ , I hatched in Murkmire though.” He answered.

“Your name means ‘ghostly beast’ correct? You didn’t happen to hatch under the sign of the Shadow, did you?” The Shadowscale tilted his head curiously. The pale lizard nodded once more. “Yes, I did and my name actually translates to ‘White Beast’ since my scales are well, white. Your name translates to ‘Ghost Walker’ if I am not mistaken.” Usaeleí chuckled. Veezara smiled brightly, “Well, it looks like I have someone I can teach on being a Shadowscale.”

The snow colored lizard rumbled deeply with laughter as they entered the dining area. As they sat down, Usaeleí found that everyone was staring at him. “You’re quite short for an Argonian.” A cranky old Breton sitting across from him huffed. “So long as I’m taller than you, I think I will be fine.” The white lizard hissed playfully as they dug into their meal. Gabriella was a Dunmer who a twisted sense of humor though most of the jokes she made flew over Usaeleí’s head. Babette was the oldest of the family, around three-hundred and ten years. She said being a vampire kept her remarkably ‘fresh’. Though she reassured the lycandrake that she doesn’t feed on family, Usaeleí remained wary. “Did you have a bad experience with vampires, Brother?” The tiny vampire asked genuinely concerned.

“If you want to call ‘being chained, stripped, then stuffed in a coffin for not becoming a pet were-beast to a deranged ancient vampire’ a bad experience then yes.” Usaeleí visibly shuddered as the memory of being trapped in the little box made his stomach churn. Babette nodded understandingly. The Redguard, known as Nazir was the last to introduce himself. He made it perfectly clear that the lycandrake would have to prove he wouldn’t die before he’d open up. “Are there many Argonians with your mismatched eyes or white scales, Brother?” Usaeleí heard Astrid ask and he shook his head. Albinos were somewhat common in Black Marsh, and the other white Argonians he had seen on occasion were vampiric. “No... I mean, there are many Argonians who have white scales. I’m just a rare case since I have one gold eye and one green eye. That’s all I really know. I went back to Black Marsh to find more answers but the only clue I found was this pendant belonging to my parents.” The white Argonian tapped the Sithis amulet around his neck.

They continued to enjoy their meal in relative silence, occasionally regaling in old missions the others had done over the weeks. Nazir gave Usaeleí some minor contracts for him to do on his own time while he honed his skills. After finishing dinner, Veezara and Usaeleí helped clean the dishes. While drying the plates and everyone else was doing their own thing, the Shadowscale chuffed at the lycandrake. “How about I go with you on your contracts?” Veezara questioned and Usaeleí’s hand stopped drying the plate he was holding. He turned towards the Shadowscale curiously. “Is this going to be part of my training?” Usaeleí teased as he put the plate away.

“It’s better to learn hands-on.” Veezara nodded then patted Usaeleí on the head as they finished their chores.

  
A few days later in the Rift, Usaeleí and Veezara were tracking a beggar known as Narfi in Ivrastead. Narfi had apparently gone insane after he killed his family and beloved sister over some sort of dispute. Someone had witnessed it and performed the Black Sacrament. When the sun had finally descended and the Shadowscale growled quietly to the younger Argonian. Usaeleí was learning quickly. He was a bit clumsy when they were in Dawnstar dealing with a skooma-addict called Betild but thankfully the mess stayed inside the house. As he faded into the shadows and hardly made a sound, Usaeleí crawled towards the sleeping beggar. “Quick, clean and quiet on this one Usaeleí!” Veezara reminded as he kept a look out for the guards. The pale Argonian nodded as he clamped the beggar’s mouth shut roughly with his hand and brought his sharp claws across the man’s jugular. The beggar twitched under Usaeleí’s grip as he slowly lowered the beggar to the ground and quietly avoided leaving a trail then reappeared behind Veezara. The green Argonian nodded impressed. 

They backtrack to an old alchemist shack where they make camp for the night. While Usaeleí got the fire going, Veezara was collecting some of the berries and other herbs. “For someone who wasn’t trained with assassination, you’re a natural.” The Shadowscale complimented as he moved his satchel aside and sat by the fire across from the lycandrake. Usaeleí chuckled slightly as they munched on some dried fish. Usaeleí turned his gaze upward and hummed softly as his eyes caught a glimpse of the aurora above through the dense trees. The colors bending, twisting. Dancing. Even here in Skyrim, the northern lights were still beautiful. Veezara followed Usaeleí’s gaze then gave him a quizzical look. “What are you looking at?”

“The aurora... Isilmé, Khyeena and I would often watch them on Solsthiem after work. It was always peaceful. The only good thing about that island of ash and snow was the skies were always clear.” Usaeleí hummed fondly. The Shadowscale shook his head grinning. While adding more wood to their fire and stoking the flames, the lycandrake tilted his head to the side in thought. “I’m curious, what’s your story Veezara?” 

“Me?” The Shadowscale questioned.

Usaeleí nodded. “Not much to tell. I was a Shadowscale. An assassin in service to the King of Black Marsh. Trained with the Brotherhood on the day of my hatching.” Veezara rolled his shoulders in a small shrug, “Ah, but that was a lifetime ago. I think you and I are the last of our kind. Now, I happily serve Astrid, and the Sanctuary and found a purpose once more. Fitting for a killer, wouldn’t you say?”

“How did you get that scar?” Usaeleí gestured to his snout as Veezara traced the scar on his own snout with his claws instinctively. 

“During my early days with the Shadowscales... The contract I was ordered to eliminate was my egg-sire. I... hesitated,” He began as his reptilian eyes closed, “and received this scar for my mistake after I finished the contract.”

“Sorry I asked.” The lycandrake scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Veezara’s rumbling chuckle made Usaeleí groan. “There is no harm in being curious, but I think that is enough for story telling for one night.” The Shadowscale hummed before curling up on his bedroll. Tomorrow, the two lizards would be returning to the Sanctuary after completing their contracts. Dousing the fire until it was cold dirt, Usaeleí laid on his back to continue watching the colorful ribbons of light dance overhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saxheel translation
> 
> Xhu- Yes
> 
> Biko- friend
> 
> Veezara- Ghost Walker. 
> 
> (Yep. Apparently part of our favorite Shadowscale's name translates to 'Ghost')


	3. First Contract Bathed in Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usaeleí finishes his first couple contracts while under the tutelage of Veezara. He reunites with Cicero which goes as well as you'd expect. Now he has a new official contract in Markarth and a few surprises on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: BLOOD GORE, CANNIBALISM.  
> You've been warned

It was noon by the time the two Argonians arrived at the Sanctuary and Veezara caught a new scent as they entered the main chamber. Usaeleí caught it too. It smelt like ghost orchid and nightshade. The lycandrake stiffened as he recognized the scent. No... It couldn’t be! There was no way! But with each inhale and the further down into the Sanctuary he went, the stronger the scent grew. Then he heard it. “But the Night Mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow! Her will!” That voice! It was unmistakable to Usaeleí now as the jester continued to rant.

“Would you dare risk disobedience?” Cicero hissed angrily at the blonde matron then added merrily, “And surely... punishment?”

Arnbjorn pulled his lips back in a menacing snarl. “Keep talking, Clown, and we’ll see who gets ‘punished’.” He would not let anyone get near his mate. Nor threaten her. Festus pulled the werewolf back a bit giving him a scolding glare. He reminded him that the Cicero had just finished a long journey and they should at least be civil. Veezara joined the group unaware that Usaeleí had snuck over to the forge to avoid the crowd. Astrid merely pulled her hair back as she stood beside Arnbjorn. “You and the Night Mother are of course welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper.” The blonde hummed then gave a firm look at Arnbjorn, “Understood, dear husband?” The werewolf growled but nodded at his wife. 

“But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Astrid’s tone then turned serious and to the point that it made Usaeleí shuddered, “Are we clear on that point?”

Cicero grinned broadly as he clapped his hands merrily and giggled manically. “Ooh. Yes. Yes. Yes, mistress. Perfectly! You’re the boss.” He nodded energetically, but once Astrid had left to talk with Veezara and everyone else had dispersed, Usaeleí saw Cicero’s eyes darken and narrow as he lowly spat, “For now.” Cicero turned his attention to the casket. Usaeleí twitched when Arnbjorn snuck up on him. 

“Astrid wants you to show the Clown his quarters down the stairs then come and see her.” He growled and Usaeleí flicked his tongue at the Nord hissing back before approaching the Keeper. He lightly tapped Cicero’s shoulder and motioned for him to follow. Usaeleí deliberately made sure he was at least one step ahead of Cicero so that he barely saw him, but when he saw the room Astrid wanted Cicero to have, the Argonian was left stunned. The room was in shambles, holes in the ceiling from erosion dripping with water from the rain pouring outside. The fireplace wasn’t even useable and the only bed in the corner was in need of repairs. An angry growl rumbled within the lycandrake’s throat as he clenched his fists tightly. This was not a room. It was a prison.

“So, it is you.”

Usaeleí turned towards Cicero who was leaning against the doorframe. “Cicero thought he recognized those horns and luminous scales.” His amber eyes were cold, hard and angry. The lycandrake could do nothing but nod. “We meet again, Cicero...” He finally said unsure how to even address the Imperial. He was here. Usaeleí was here with Brotherhood. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. So much to say but what could the lycandrake say? He was about to open his maw when he heard Astrid call out to him. His eyes flickered towards the jester who moved aside and giving a flourished bow ushered the lizard out of the room. “Cicero has much to do. Must get Mother settled in her new home. Now off with you. An initiate such as you little skink has no reason to distract the Keeper anyway.” _A skink...?_ That actually hurt more than Usaeleí wanted to admit but he sighed, leaving the room to find Astrid. He glanced behind and chuckled. At least he was near again.

“Ah, there you are. I trust the Keeper is making himself at home?” Astrid cooed as the lizard approached her. She noticed the scowl on his face and gave a confused look. “Is something troubling you, Usaeleí?” He shook his head deciding to remain silent. He instead shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat. “You called for me. Do you have a contract for me?” He asked forcing his voice to stay calm. Astrid nodded with a soft smile, “I do indeed. You’ll be going to Markarth, and speak with the apothecary’s assistant...” 

Usaeleí grumbled a little as the wagon rocked violently a little. He was lucky enough to catch a carriage heading to Markarth from Falkreath. He took out his parchment and looked over his notes. Apparently, the woman known Muiri had been complaining about an ex-lover she wanted dead. From the information Veezara had about Muiri, the woman was rather close to a wealthy family in Windhelm until her ex-lover got involved and used her to steal the family blind. She was then forced to flee from Eastmarch to the Reach to keep from losing her life. “You aren't worried about the Reachmen at all?” the driver asked disturbing the Argonian from his thoughts. “Should I?” Usaeleí wondered as he folded his paper and tucked it safely in his backpack. 

The driver glanced over his shoulder slightly. “They tend to attack travelers often and there’s something off about the city.” 

“Such as?”

“Some of the residents say that city has quite a few Daedric cults hidden within the walls. So, be careful.” 

“Thanks for the warning.” Usaeleí rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was early morning when he arrived to the city of Markarth. The mountain fog rolled down over the city. No one was awake but still, Usaeleí decided to go an explore. He definitely felt a Daedric presence within the city and it made his spines bristle slightly but not much. Markarth was a city built from an abandoned dwemer or dwarven city and thankfully it was easy to navigate. He found the Hag’s Cure apothecary near the Jarl’s residence and noticed a young woman approaching the building. He glanced at her with glowing eyes catching her off-guard. “Muiri correct?”

“W-w-w-w-who wants to know?” The woman gulped nervously, her green eyes shifting around for any possible escape route.   
“The Dark Brotherhood has come.” Usaeleí stated as he brandished his claws.

“The Dark Brotherh... Oh. Oh!” The Breton gasped in a whisper cupping her mouth with her small hands, excitement and delight playing across her eyes, “I... my goodness, you’re really here! The Sacrament. It actually worked?”

“I would not be here if it did not.” The lizard rolled his eyes, “Tell me what you want done.”

“I want you to kill Alain Dufont.” She stated adamantly placing her hands on her hips. “He took my life from me. Now, I will take his.”

“And do you know his whereabouts by any chance?” The lycandrake leaned against the wall behind him while producing a map for her. Muiri nodded and took a piece of charcoal the Argonian gave her and circled slightly off a path leading to Markarth. He rolled the map and bowed slightly before turning on his claws and wandering up to the keep to avoid the down pouring storm overhead. While under the stone archway, he overheard a few guards chattering in uneasy hushed tones. “I don’t like it. Did you hear that something is eating the honored dead?” One guard whispered shuddering in disgust. His fellow guardsman shuddered at the information before replying, “Yeah. I heard the Priest of Arkay is offering a reward for anyone to eradicate the infestation.”

 _Probably just skeevers or something. Might as well earn some extra gold._ Usaeleí shrugged and proceeded through the doors leading into the building. Using his nose to find the catacombs, the lizard soon found the distressed priest pacing around anxiously. He nearly jumped when the lizard cleared his throat. “Oh, for Arkay’s sake! The burial grounds are not open to public right now.” The Nord grumbled. 

“I’m here to get rid of your pest problem.” 

The catacombs were nothing strange. Dead bodies, some embalmed others were being prepped for burial but it was one body in particular that held the lycandrake’s interest. He picked up the thigh bone of a deceased Nord woman and noticed that the marrow had been stripped clean. There were teeth marks along the bone, but what caught his interest was that the marks were made from human teeth not rat or even insects. _Okay, not an animal infestation but a cannibal infestation. That’s a new one..._ Usaeleí confirmed before returning the bone back. He then caught the scent of someone else in the catacombs. This scent was not dead but alive. He inhaled once more. Female... so it wasn’t the priest. He spun around but found no one behind him. Then a voice spoke to him, echoing off the walls of the tomb making it difficult to pinpoint:

“Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel, blood and death, but fear not. I can sense the hunger within you. Gnawing at you. You see the dead, your mouth waters. Your stomach growls, seeking to be satisfied. I will not shun you for who or what you are. Please stay and I will tell you all that you have forgotten.”

“How about you show yourself before I track you down and tear you apart.” Usaeleí growled and hissed flicking his tongue. He caught movement on his left and found a Breton female emerge from the shadows, her illusionary magic dissipating. She was petite, but lean wearing chainmail. Her right eye was clear with a red strip of paint running over it. Blind in one eye... Her short dark blonde hair curled into a bob under her ears and her hands rested on a steel sword. He hissed warily at her as she smiled. “You were young when you tasted mortal flesh, weren’t you? Around nine or ten? A mother or perhaps a guardian died?” Usaeleí’s spines stood straight up and he growled as he backed away from her. How did she?! The strange Breton raised her hand calmly continuing, “An accident, of course then your hunger set in. The warm blood tasted so sweet, the flesh so tender. Fret not, you’ve found a friend who understands. You can let go of the guilt.”

“What in the name of Sithis are you trying to do to me?!” He snarled brandishing his claws. He had gone through great lengths to keep that memory from returning and now this wench brought the memories flooding back. His heart raced violently and his breathing, irregular. Eola swiftly moved towards the lizard and rested her hands on his head and snout. “Breathe, or you’re going to hyperventilate.” She instructed. “It’s alright... a lot of our kind block out the memory of their first meal. The shame is too much." The lycandrake noted the flecks of gold magic running across his scales sent a wave of tranquility. 

“Better?” She asked and he nodded warily. “I’m Eola, Priestess of Namira bearing a message from the Prince of Decay.” The Argonian raised a scaly brow. What did the Mistress of Decay want with him?

“What is this place?” Usaeleí inquired as Eola brought him to an old Nord ruin within Reachcliff Cave. His curiosity had gotten the better of him as the two walked through the ruins. It was close to his target, at least. He also learned that Eola’s unique taste stemmed from a need to survive. She originally came to Skyrim from High Rock as a young girl with her family but a nasty fall from a steep cliff took her parents and most of her supplies from the wagon. Having to make do with what she had, the girl resorted to cannibalism. Since then, it became the norm. 

“This is where our coven meets for supper. Our mistress has been watching you for a long time, Shadowscale. She also knows what you are and knows this will help you keep your other half in check.” Eola explained as she pushed the old iron doors open, “The shrine is just inside.” Usaeleí’s eyes scanned the room cautiously. Ruins often liked suppressing surprises. Once within the main chamber, the lycandrake noticed a strange altar on a dais in the back of the chamber. It had a table and looming over it was something that look like a demonic centipede with the face of a woman for a head. A long chain with a strange spear-like drill dangled from its neck like a necklace. His spines stood straight up and his scales suddenly felt a bit itchy. 

“Here we are. I must prepare the chamber for your feast.” The Breton hummed as she took a few plates from a shelf and proceeded to set the large table in the center of the room.

Usaeleí stared at Eola in confusion. “.... My feast?”

“But of course,” Eola glanced up at him as she moved some candles aside, “And you will have the honor of bringing a fresh kill for the main course. The Priest of Arkay you were so kind to help.”

Usaeleí crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don’t think so.” The cannibal stopped and gave him a dark look that brightened when the lizard returned her stare with a toothy grin. “I don’t eat stringy meat.” 

“Oh? Do you have a better choice in food?” Eola tapped her chin.

“Indeed, I do and he is not far from here. Lean muscle, taste of adventure and drama with a hint of sweetness.” The Argonian hummed and noticed the Breton chuckling in anticipation. She licked her lips, hungrily. “That does sound more... mouth-watering than a priest with an easy life. Very well, bring your prey here little drake.” Eola shooed him out with gentle push to his back.

Finding Alain was easy. The man literally was bragging at his campfire, which he couldn’t seem to light, about his previous heist in Windhelm. The idiot was foolish enough to admit that he tricked his ‘poor little lily’ into believing that he loved her. Well, time to get to work. Donning a simple merchant attire, which he had purchased from one of the merchants in Markarth, the lizard approached the thief under the guise of a lost traveler. “Can I help you lizard?” Alain smirked, his eyes appraising the Argonian. Usaeleí smirked back as his eyes glowed softly. “You’ve been traveling as much as I have. It will rain soon. Follow me to shelter.” He said with a wave of his hand. Alain’s eyes seemed to gloss over as he abandoned his camp to follow the lycandrake. It was a short walk back to Reachcliff but instantly, he caught the scents of others lodging inside the ruins.

Just as they entered the main chamber, Usaeleí found four other people sitting at the table. One quick sniff told his senses that they weren’t a threat to him and he strolled over to Eola who was grinning ear to ear at his prey. “My! That is a meaty mouthful.” She exclaimed then patted the lizard’s shoulder and approached Alain. She muttered a few words before gesturing to the altar behind them and the lycandrake watched his target prop himself on the altar and lay down falling asleep. “Don’t be shy little drake. He's your kill. You should be the one to carve.” Eola motioned to Alain. Usaeleí chuffed as he meticulously removed the man’s elaborate tunic then made a precise incision on the right side of his ribcage with his sharp claws. He jabbed his claws through the incision, feeling them puncture through the lung to grip the heart. He hissed as it still pulsed around his palm.

He clenched his hand into a fist, feeling the organ struggle to pulse against the pressure. He continued to squeeze; harder, tighter until suddenly it popped like a hoarvar after intaking too much blood. He removed his hand, licking his bloodstained claws and nipped off the pulverized pieces of heart under his nails. He then carved a large piece of Alain’s flesh and munched contently. He growled when his teeth chomped on something metallic. He spat out the piece to find that it was a ring. It was made of bronze and shaped like a pair of bat wings, or perhaps something else. There were two stones on the top. A deep, dark red ruby and a black diamond across from it. The ring hummed with a strange enchantment. He was taken from his thoughts as a voice echoed in the chamber, everyone staring at the statue of Namira.

_“Greetings youngling. I am Namira, the Lady of Decay. Your consumption of the blood and flesh of the one Alain Dufont is pleasing to me. So much that I bestow my ring unto you. Wear it and your when feast, my power shall reign in the beast should he try to take over.”_

“Why help me? Daedra hardly do things for free?” Usaeleí questioned as he fiddled with the ring. 

_“An extended family courtesy dear Usaeleí. That is all I will say.”_

The lycandrake made a quizzical look but ultimately decided not to press his luck. He glanced at Eola who glanced at the ring then back at him as though he had something worth more than all the gold in the world. He slipped the ring on to his left index finger feeling it shrink to a snug fit. “I didn’t know the Daedric Princes considered you extended family. How fortunate!” Eola exclaimed delighted then noticed Usaeleí glancing towards the door, “I’m guessing you have to get going, hm?” He nodded. He had to meet up with Muiri to complete this contract then head back to the Sanctuary before his family got worried. “I hate to cut and run, but I’ll make it up to you if you ever come to Falkreath.” He smiled, “Providing that you’re alright with cakes.”

“Cakes? Like sweet rolls?” She asked with a scrunched-up face.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid _biko_?” He grinned and she growled.

“No! Challenge accepted... when I have need of being in Falkreath.” Eola hissed as the lizard left laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I decided not to put the second part of Mourning Never Comes where you'd have to kill Nilsine. Don't ask why.
> 
> Also if your curious about the 'extended family' comment you'll have to read a different story to learn that 
> 
> Finally calling an Argonian a skink is equally to calling someone a runt or weakling
> 
> Comments, suggestions, etc welcomed ^^


	4. The Silence has Been Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just returning to the Sanctuary after his contract in Markarth, Astrid requests his help to discover if the Jester is planning to usurp her. However he dislikes what she has in mind.

“Ah, Usaeleí. You’re back!” Astrid greeted as the white lizard made his way down the stairs. She turned away from her work and leaned against the table to properly face him. “So, how did the contract go?” Usaeleí fiddled with the Namira’s ring quietly and rolled his shoulders in a small shrug. He did what had to be done. He grinned slightly before answering the matron, “Let’s just say, Alain tasted better than he looked.” The blonde chuckled in disbelief at the Argonian’s reply. That was one way to take out a target, though she expected that behavior more from her husband. “I am pleased that your contract with Muiri went well... Now, I need your assistance with a matter of a more... personal nature.”

“Is something wrong?” Usaeleí asked quite puzzled.

“It’s Cicero.” She began as the Lycandrake scratched his head confused.

“What about him?”

“Ever since his arrival, his behavior’s been... well erratic is more than an understatement. I do believe he is truly mad.” Usaeleí snorted in amusement earning a small glare from the Nord. _No doubt that he’s mad. Even the blind could see that._ He thought to himself before apologizing and allowing Astrid to continue. “Now he’s taking to locking himself in the Night Mother’s chamber and talking. To someone. In hushed but frantic tones. I fear treachery.”

“Astrid, I think you’re being a little too paranoid.” Usaeleí exhaled exasperatedly while rolling his eyes, “Cicero is most likely just talking to the Night Mother.” He wouldn’t deny that having a healthy paranoia was essential in their line of work. If the Dark Brotherhood didn’t follow their intuition they wouldn’t have survived as long as they have. Still, Astrid persisted. Usaeleí growled throwing his scaly hands up in defeat.

“Alright! Fine. What do you want me do?” He snipped, his eyes glowing briefly from aggravation, “He’s more than a seasoned assassin so hiding in the shadows won’t wo- Astrid... why are you looking at me with that face?” His spines stood on edge at the suggestive look in the Nord’s blue eyes. There was one hiding spot in the chamber and the Argonian shook his head vigorously. 

“No. That’s just... disrespectful and gross.” He stated bluntly as he turned to leave her. 

“I understand. You’re probably right. But perhaps you can join me and my husband in the chamber?” The Nord sighed as Arnbjorn walked in on que. Usaeleí quirked a brow but decided to follow them. He watched the couple whisper to each other and he rolled his eyes when the werewolf rumbled with laughter. Probably talking about their plans for the evening.

Once they were in the chamber, Astrid turned towards the Argonian who narrowed his eyes suspiciously then before he had time to process what was going on, he felt Arnbjorn grab one of his antlers and lifted him up off the ground. Usaeleí couldn’t even produce a proper sound as he dug his claws in to the werewolf’s wrist, hissing. He saw from the corner of his eye Astrid unlocking the Night Mother’s coffin. Despite how well preserved the corpse was, it was still a dead body. Sunken, dark ashen skin tightly clung to the skeletal frame that was dressed in a rather lovely black gown. The Lycandrake thrashed about earnestly but that proved futile for the Nord’ strength held fast. “I’m sorry, dear Brother. We’ll make it up to you but we need to know at Cicero’s up to first.” The Matron said as her mate practically shoved the squirming lizard inside then locked the coffin. 

It was a miracle that he didn’t harm the Night Mother’s corpse but Usaeleí was not doing well. The tininess of the coffin, the dead body pressed against his back was causing the lycandrake to sweat. The only light he had was the dim green and gold glow from his eyes. Morthal flashed through his mind once more and he yelled earnestly. He started clawing against the metal doors, he pounded his fists against the steel. How could no one hear him?! Minutes turned to hours and his voice now hoarse and dry from yelling, Usaeleí started to grow colder. “LET ME OUT!!!!” He roared once more in a scratchy tone, “PLEASE!!!” His breathing, though shallow, quickened. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs.

_**Shhh, calm yourself my son. You are safe.** _

Usaeleí heard a familiar voice whisper serenely in his head. He then felt something wrapping around his shoulders, like some was embracing him from behind. It was... comforting. He felt his body slowly relax to the strange voice’s humming. He was more than certain that this voice belonged to the Night Mother. He had almost started to drift to sleep when he heard the sound of doors opening and closing. He then heard Cicero’s voice start rambling. Something about not finding the Listener? From the sound of it, Usaeleí couldn’t help but feel that the fool wanted to be Listener. He heard the Night Mother sigh sadly. 

_**My sweet Cicero... He is a humble child. But he cannot hear my voice, for he is not the Listener. I will speak to you. For you are the one, Usaeleí. You who warms my ancient bones. You are ready, my son. I have a task for you my little one. Journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre. But before you do, tell dear Cicero the words he has been waiting for, all these years: “Darkness rises when Silence dies.”** _

_Ut scribis, Mater. Cum resurget tenebris silentio moriatur..._

The doors to the coffin opened and flooded the nearly unconscious Argonian’s eyes as he tumbled out of the small space. Cicero was shouting in horror at the sight. How dare this initiate defile the Night Mother’s corpse! He yanked the lizard to his feet by his horns then slammed the white creature against the wall, his dagger pressing dangerously against the Lycandrake’s dry scaly throat, threatening to slash it. “Explain yourself, you vile little skink!” He snarled, amber eyes darkening with rage. “Darkness rises... when silence dies...” The lizard rasped dryly. The serrated blade pulled away from his throat slightly. “What did you say?” The Keeper questioned skeptically then felt the Argonian’s scaly hand grip his wrist tightly. Only then did he notice that Usaeleí’s claws were broken on a couple fingers and he was missing a few scales on his palm.

“I said ‘Darkness rises when silence dies’.” He repeated, his mismatched eyes glowing brightly causing Cicero to shudder in delight. 

“She... she said that? But those are the Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. A signal so I should know. Then... it is true!” The jester started to say softly then he burst in laughter, immediately sheathing his dagger. Happy, exuberant laughter! “Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! HA HA HA! All hail the Listener!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Usaeleí says is in Latin loosely translates to this: 
> 
> As you say, Mother. Darkness rises when silence dies


	5. Listening and Keeping?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding between Listener and Keeper

Usaeleí, still dazed and lightheaded from being thrown into the Night Mother’s coffin, was barely aware of the chamber doors being thrust open. However, it was Astrid’s voice that brought the lizard from his stupor as she shouted into the chamber. “By Sithis this ends now!” She demanded with a snarl, blue eyes locking onto the Keeper, “Back away, Fool! Whatever you are planning is over! Where is your accomplice? Show yourself traitor!” The matron continued to scan the room for any signs of the jester’s presumed partner. Cicero glared at Astrid with absolute disdain, throwing his hands up in a display of rage at the accusation.

“Cicero only spoke to the Night Mother! Spoke only to her, but she did not speak to poor Cicero. No!” He exclaimed then gestured to the Argonian behind him, “She spoke only to him! To the Listener!”

Astrid gawked at him. _The Listener?_ “What are you going on about? What lunacy are you speaking?”

“It’s true, it’s true!” The Keeper urged, “The Night Mother has spoken! The silence is broken! Her Listener has been chosen!” It was then the matron noticed Usaeleí leaning against the wall looking as though he was on death’s door. When she tried to approach him, the pale Argonian gave her the coldest glare he could muster and a dry, scratchy growl rumbled in his throat halting her movements. _You stay away from me!_ The lycandrake's body language told her. He then pulled his lips back revealing his long fangs, eyes glowing angrily, _You’re the one who shoved me in there in the first place_. 

“You look you’ve seen a ghost. Please tell me you didn’t.” Astrid began composing herself while still keeping an eye on Cicero, “The damn fool mentioned that he spoke to the Night Mother... but she spoke to you?”

Usaeleí nodded his head once. “Xhu. It’s true. The Night Mother did speak to me and said I was ‘ _the one_ ’.”

 _Damn, Usaeleí was telling the truth then._ Astrid thought to herself now feeling a bit guilty for shoving her Dark Brother in the coffin. _So, Cicero wasn’t talking to anyone else... Just the Night Mother’s body..._ “And according to everything we know, the Unholy Matron will only speak to the person she has chosen as Listener... which is... you?” She received another nod. Astrid prompted the lizard to deliver the message he heard.

“She has instructed me to speak with someone named Amaund Motierre, in the Nordic ruins of Volunruund. The name was unfamiliar to Astrid, however Volunruud was another story. When Usaeleí suggested he would go and investigate, the matron reprimanded the Argonian. “No. No! Usaeleí, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that?” She snapped gripping the lycandrake’s shoulder vaguely aware that Cicero had made a grab for his dagger only to have her hand swatted away from Usaeleí’s shoulder. After what you did earlier? Knowing that I hate being in an enclosed space?! He wanted to remind her but he bit his tongue. He then leaned forward and whispered to her so only she could hear, “If you repair Cicero’s chambers, I’ll consider us even and forget that you shoved me in that coffin.” He said with a sigh.

“Consider it done. Go see Nazir- do some work for him and take the damn fool with you so I can actually think.” She whispered back before leaving the chamber. Cicero was beside himself, grinning maniacally at his little lizard. 

“Does the Listener require my services?” 

“Wanna go do some contracts with me?”

“Humble Cicero lives to serve!”

Once the two collected the information they needed on their targets, Cicero waited for the lizard at the stables excitedly double checking their supplies. Usaeleí sealed the door behind him, downing rejuvenation potion that Gabriella concocted for him to recover what he had lost while being trapped with the Night Mother. While Cicero climbed on to his mount’s back, he stared in confusion at Usaeleí who wandered into the stall for his own mount. “The Listener does not need to worry about readying another horse. He can ride with humble Cicero.” The Imperial grinned extending a gloved hand towards the lizard. Taken aback by the sudden 180 in the Imperial’s twisted personality, Usaeleí just stared blankly at the man.

“I’m sorry... what?” He asked.

“You can ride with me.” Repeated the Jester.

Reluctantly, Usaeleí gripped Cicero by the forearm and silently marvel at the strength the Keeper had when he pulled the lizard up behind him on Wraith. It was late in the night when they wandered onto the road and trotted towards Falkreath. Cicero was happily humming to himself but slowly ceased when the Listener finally spoke. “You still hate me...” It wasn’t a question. Cicero turn his head slightly to glance behind. “You are referring to the Morthal incident, aren’t you?”

Silence.

“Cice- I will not deny that I was angry that you left me.” Usaeleí’s spines drooped low. “However,” Cicero added feeling the lizard’s gaze focused on him, “After talking with the pretty black kitty, I understand why you left.”

“You spoke with... Khyeena?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes! She was very helpful. A very helpful kitty cat!”

Usaeleí swallowed. _So, he knows about my episodes on Solsthiem with her and Isilmé._ “But past is past. You are here and you are the Listener!” The fool giggled gleefully. Again, they continued along the road in silence. Soon, the sound of Wraith’s hooves clacking against the stones became too annoying and Usaeleí pulled out his notebook. Sifting through the pages, his claws trace the name of a target in Whiterun and he studied his notes:

_Name: Anoriath_

_Race: Wood Elf_

_Occupation: Hunter, merchant_

_Relatives: A brother; owns The Drunken Huntsman_

_Current information:_

_According to Nazir, the Bosmer practices the Meat Mandate heavily and has been known to eat the bodies of those he hunts. Be they man, woman or child, he will devour them. The last mortal he consumed was a guard on patrol and his act was witnessed by the spouse of the guard. His brother is unaware of this practice._

Usaeleí scribbled a few side notes claiming it would be best to hunt while he was out hunting, away from the eyes of guards and far enough away from the city walls. He snapped the book shut and slid it back into the saddle bag. The dark night slowly changed into morning as the morning star bathed the clouds in a blood-red hue and the sound of songbirds broke the silence in the darkness. The duo managed to make it towards Whiterun just before sunrise and the two rented a room upstairs at the inn. “Cicero wants a Skyforge dagger!” Cicero exclaimed excitedly before flopping down on the bed pretending to stab his feathered pillow to death, “Good for sharp pointy stabby stab stabbing.” When he turned towards the Listener, he found him scribbling in his notebook. 

Rolling on his stomach, the Keeper cleared his throat distracting Usaeleí from his thoughts. The heterochromia eyes of the Argonian stared curiously at the Imperial before returning to his book. “Is there something you wish to talk about?” He whispered as his quill scratched and scribbled on a clean page of parchment.

“What you have been up to since the Morthal incident would be a good start.”

The quill stopped moving. 

“Well?”

The book closed with a snap and Usaeleí shoved it back into his pack shaking his head before taking a deep breath. “I... lost control of the beast...” He started, gazing down at his hands before clenching them into tight fists, his claws pinching his palms painfully. He then went on to explain the mysterious visitor he had while be away from Cicero. When he mentioned that since encountering the strange being, he could no longer feel or hear the beast’s presence, Cicero tilted his head, allowing his hat to fall off. “You haven’t tried shifting into it?” He asked cautiously since he knew this was a testy subject. The Argonian shook his head claiming that it was the first time in a long while since he had peace of mind. That afternoon, after a good long nap, Cicero and Usaeleí found their target. The two kept to the shadows waiting until Anoriath to leave the safety of the city walls then as dusk approached, followed the Bosmer out of the city.

“Pretty lizard improved his skills dramatically since I last traveled with him.” Cicero commented as Usaeleí washed his claws in the small creek. To anyone who would come across the Wood Elf’s corpse would surmise that it was a hunting accident gone wrong. It helped that the lycandrake’s claws were always kept sharp. “Veezara has been teaching me since he’s a Shadowscale.” Usaeleí explained, drying his hands on a clean rag. Cicero growled at hearing his lizard tell him that someone else was teaching him. The growl did not go unnoticed as Usaeleí turned his body to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” He saw his lizard grin teasingly making Cicero growl even more.

“Me? The Keeper? Jealous? Never!” The pale Argonian’s smirk grew when the Imperial made a pouty face. 

The next morning, the Keeper and Listener were on the road once more. “You’ve been acting really strange since we left our home, Cicero. Why?” The lizard pointed out as he turned a page in his journal. “I’m not acting strange.” The Fool stated defensively. 

“Oh yeah?” Challenged the lizard, “Then why are you referring yourself in first person instead of third person?” Cicero’s amber eyes widen in alarm and Usaeleí snickered as he watched the Keeper smack his face with his hand.

He growled at the Listener. “Fuck off.”

“Haha!”

“Who are hunting next, dear sweet Listener?”

“Hisssss. Two people. A Khajiit merchant traveling to Dawnstar and also an Argonian scavenger who lives just of the coast of the harbor.” Usaeleí answered. He also described their feline target in great detail, stating that he had a lynx like face and markings. “A Cathay if my knowledge on Khajiti breeds is accurate.” He finished explaining. He’d have to ask Khyeena more about that particular topic later. The Argonian target was known for scavenging shipwrecks off the shores of Dawnstar. 


	6. Surprise in Dawnstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usaeleí and Cicero arrive at Dawnstar finally but find that they've missed their targets. Now seeking out their elusive prey, they are in for a few surprises.

“Is it just me or does this place smell like daedra?” Usaeleí questioned as he maneuvered the mare into an unused stall next to the inn. Cicero turned his head and scratched his scalp. The Fool of Hearts was also certain that there was something off in this town but rolled his shoulders in a tired shrug. “Cicero certainly feels more drained than usual but he thinks he’s probably just tired from the long ride.” The Keeper yawned. Usaeleí on the other hand was more unsettled by that. Cicero looked more than tired and he took a nap shortly before they arrived to Dawnstar. Also, he was usually more energetic. Something definitely was amiss. He hopped down from the saddle and nearly stumbled to catch Cicero as he fell off the saddle. Thankfully, a young stable-hand offered to tend to the mount while he hefted the Keeper into the inn.

As he paid for a room, Usaeleí overheard a few miners talking with a Dark Elf Priest about the nightmares. As he laid Cicero down on to the bed, he tucked the Imperial under the furs. “I’ll be back with some food and drink.” He said earning a tired and exaggerated moan from the Fool. The Argonian chuckled. He then wandered into the lobby where the Priest had finally calmed down the agitated miners, but the lizard could see that the elf was more than a little distracted. 

“Erandur, are you sure that we shouldn’t be concerned with these dreams?” 

“Quite sure, my dear. Mara will protect us. You’ll see.” The Priest known as Erandur stated with a calm smile. The innkeeper gave him a tired look before turning towards Usaeleí and gave him some roasted meat and ale.

When he wandered back into the room, he found Cicero sitting up looking a bit better from earlier and amber eyes honed in on the offering in the lizard’s scaly hands. The two ate in relative silence. “You plan on going out and investigating, aren’t you?” Asked the jester interrupting Usaeleí from his thoughts. The lycandrake gave him a guilty smile turned frown when Cicero crossed his arms in a scolding manner but soon changed into a bright smile. “Does the Listener object to me exploring the town to gather information about the Kitty Caravans?” Usaeleí stared blankly at Cicero’s request. He was half expecting the Fool to scold him about leaving again and gave him a wary look. “What’s the catch?”

“Such accusations! Cicero is the humble Keeper and he would never demand anything from the Listener!” Cackled the Imperial before climbing out of bed with a merry, if unhinged, grin on his face. Before the Argonian could even prepare himself, he shuddered when he felt Cicero’s breath on his neck then felt his tongue trace upwards towards his cheek. Usaeleí’s spines stood up and he made a strange rasp before whipping his head towards the jester who made an innocent face as he clamped a hand on his neck. Cicero’s eyes betrayed him though as they glittered in delight in seeing the lizard’s cheeks become tinted a shade of pink. “You taste unbearably sweet,” The hue turned darker when the Fool chuckled suggestively. “You’re mine, my Listener.” 

Usaeleí growled embarrassed and made a swipe at the crazy fool but snapped his claws when Cicero slipped away and was gone. The lycandrake huffed as he took a breath to calm his excitement. He then felt his own smile form upon his scaly lips. At least this time the two didn’t fight but he wondered why the Keeper licked him. He shook his head and left the room as well to talk with Erandur.

“What troubles you, my son?” The Dark Elf questioned.

“What this about chronic nightmares?”

Nightcaller Temple

“This is Nightcaller Temple.” Erandur informed as he and Usaeleí stood before a strange temple overlooking Dawnstar’s coast. Just as the Argonian was about to open the wooden door, Erandur gripped his shoulder gently. When he questioned the Dunmer, Erandur shook his head. He explained that there were dangers within the temple to be wary of. The Priest of Mara explained that years ago, the temple was raided by orcs seeking revenge after being plagued by nightmares, similar to what was afflicting the townsfolk of Dawnstar.

Apparently, the former priests, who also worshipped Vaermina; the Daedric Prince of Nightmares; were aware that they would fail in defeating the invaders so they unleashed a gas called the Miasma. The Miasma; normally used for the cults’ rituals; dragged everyone withing the temple into a deep slumber. “Worse yet, the gas is extremely dangerous,” Erandur explained, “causing those under its effects for extended periods of time to become mindless animals.”

“You seem to know much about this place,” Usaeleí stated suspiciously as the two wandered in to the decrepit temple. There was a strange scent on the air as the Erandur approached an old tapestry that crumpled to the stone floor from a simple touch.

“I suppose there’s no point in concealing the truth any longer.” He sighed turning his head towards the Argonian, “My knowledge of this tempele comes from personal experience. I was once a priest of Vaermina. When the orcs invaded, I fled. Leaving my brothers and sisters here to die. Regretting what I’ve done, I came back to set things right.” Usaeleí remained silent. His attention was then drawn to something on the bottom floor behind the secret room. It looked like a staff with a skull on it. His scales felt itchy again. There was an immense amount of daedric energy radiating from it.

It was the Skull of Corruption. According to Erandur, the Skull of Corruption constantly hungers for memories of others. He theorized that after devouring the memories of the orcs and many of his brethren, it evolved and gained the ability to extend its reach and feed upon the town. They approached what appeared to be a massive library though most of the contents had decayed over time, save for one book resting peacefully on a pedestal labeled The Dreamstride. After gathering what they could from the book, and fending off a few crazed and reawakened priests, the two made their way to an alchemy chamber where Usaeleí discovered a large bottle with a green and blue mixture swirling around.

“I’m guessing I have to be the test subject?”

“I’m sorry Usaeleí.” The Dunmer bowed apologetically, “I’m afraid the Topor will only work for the Priests of Vaermina or the unaffliated. You are Dawnstar’s only chance.”

 _Sithis, help me..._ “Fair enough...” And with that, Usaeleí downed the potion’s contents and the room around faded into darkness. Then next thing Usaeleí remembered was waking up in a room with two barriers with a chain on the wall between them. He pulled the chain down watching as the barrier fizzled and the Priest of Mara running down to meet him. They travel a bit farther until they were standing before the staff. As the priest began his incantation, Usaeleí felt an electric shock run along his spine all the way down his tail. He gritted his teeth. Something was wrong. 

**You thought I was gone, beeko?**

_No!_

**You thought wrong.**

_Not you!_ The lycandrake gripped his head tightly, falling to his knees biting back a scream. He didn’t even realize that a feminine voice was laughing somewhere in his mind.

**Kill the Priest, he’s deceiving you. Once he has the staff, he will kill you!**

“Get out of my head!!!”

 _ **Vaermina!** _A new, deeper and oddly familiar masculine voice invaded his mind. _**Leave my Son alone, lest you wish my wrath upon you!**_

The feminine voice hissed in annoyance. After a few long and painful moments, Vaermina finally retracted her claws from the Argonian’s mind just as the Skull was sent back to Oblivion. Usaeleí blinked, his vision still dark and hazy but he swore he saw the faint outline of the strange Argonian he had met in the cave months ago. Before he could even express his thanks, let alone converse with him, his mismatched eyes narrowed. He shielded his gaze from the blinding light of the torches before accepting the Dunmer’s extended hand. “Thanks.” He hissed softly, his eyes now readjusting to the light and he gripped the Dark Elf’s forearm. Erandur shook his head and led the Argonian out of the temple stating that his Imperial friend was probably worried sick about him.

Just as he wandered back down to the tavern, he caught a familiar scent. Three in fact. He stuck to the shadows to find Cicero teasing Isilmé in his own way and the lycandrake heaved a sigh before reappearing and smacking his fist lightly atop the jester’s head. He hissed softly and urged the Keeper to mind his manners before the Nord known as Vilkas took a seat beside the Elf. As he watched the two, a teasing smirk spread across his face. “What are you two doing here anyway?” He asked causally before adding, “Are you two on a date or something?” Usaeleí held back his laugh as the Nord man choked on his drink in a sputtering cough. Both of their faces turned crimson before the warriors composed themselves just as Usaeleí could not help but let loose his concealed laughter. It was short lived when his childhood friend leaned over the table and yanked his horn hard enough to pull his head to one side. She opened her mouth to say something however it was cut off by the sudden roar of a beast outside that seemed to draw both the Nord’s and Isilmé’s attention.

The three rushed out of the inn to find a massive grayish green dragon with a great frilled crest atop its head soaring above the cloudy skies. “Sweet Bride of Sithis! What is that?!” The Argonian screeched as the massive creature shook the air with another ear-piercing roar and landed angrily on the snowy road. Guards were shooting arrows at it but the dragon was focused on one person: Isilmé. It pulled back its lips revealing narrow, needle like fangs and it hissed like a vile serpent from the pits of Oblivion. Growing irritated with the guards, the dragon slammed his tail hard on to the snow cover ground sending a mini earthquake around them and knocking the warriors flat on their bums. Usaeleí noticed the creature was focused keenly on one person: Isilmé. 

Suddenly the beast took to the air, blending seamlessly into the thick overcast above. The Argonian and Companions scanned the sky restlessly, waiting; dreading when the creature would reappear. They did not need to wait long. Isilmé saw it first. The green glowing eyes then a large ball of fire barreling towards them. “ _ **Fo!**_ ” He heard the Elf shout as a plume of ice collided into the fireball causing it to fizzle out but in return shrouded the three in a heavy mist. He spun around to the sound his friend yelping in pain, just in time roll away from the dragon's claws. Razor sharp talons had slashed through her back as though her chainmail was only paper. They didn’t have time to recover either. The dragon’s serpentine head whipped around and tossed Isilmé into the air as he and Vilkas could only watch helplessly. She danced like a leaf just barely avoiding the dragon’s snapping jaws then twisted her body just enough for her to land atop the dragon’s head to which she proceeded to stab the beast through the eye.

Unable to stay airborne, the dragon plummeted to the ground and Isilmé landed on a pile of snow on the road beside it. It was then the Lycandrake noticed the ribbons of light dancing around her, stripping the dragon’s essence, soul and all from its body. The two men hurriedly carried their unconscious friend back inside to the warmth of the hearth. What in the name of Sithis did he just witness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you like this series so far ^^


	7. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their surprise in Dawnstar, Usaeleí and Cicero continue their hunt for their quarries. However where their prey is residing is in the last place the Lycandrake wants to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: minor Yaoi (male-x-male) 
> 
> This chapter WILL have some smutt and fluff. 
> 
> Chapter still in the works

After making sure his precious friend was going to be alright and resupplying for their journey, Usaeleí and Cicero left the city of Dawnstar. _Dragonborn! Isilmé is the Dragonborn?!_ He thought but still his mind swirled at the revelation, _I can't believe it. Then again, she always felt different from everyone in more ways then one..._ Perhaps that was why the two got along so well in their youth. He shook his head and reminded himself of their current mission. When the Argonian questioned Cicero on where their quarry had gone, the jester merely remained quiet. Their quarry was heading to Morthal. Their Argonian target had gotten wind of their presence in Dawnstar and had apparently moved to the swamps of Morthal as well hoping not to be found. Cicero was more concerned on how Usaeleí would react upon returning to where they had last parted.

The Imperial tilted his head back in thought, amber eyes reflecting the golden sunset overhead as he directed the mare towards the direction of Morthal. Usaeleí was unaware of their destination as he was currently penning his journal about their targets, that is until he caught the scent of the swamp on the air. He torn his attention away from the pages and scanned the area in disbelief. _Xuth! No! Anywhere but here!_

Sensing the Listener’s discomfort, the Keeper turned his head to glance at him. “Poor Cicero understands his precious lizard would rather not be here but,” Cicero began softly trying his best to soothe the lycandrake, “this is where humble Cicero overheard the guards say the kitty and the skink were heading.” Usaeleí grinded his teeth and steeled himself to keep from trembling. Already the memories were resurfacing but he swallowed hard not wanting to appear weak or scared. 

“Let’s just deal with the targets and be done with this place.”

Nodding, Cicero guided Wraith towards an empty stall and while a stable boy tended to the mare, the Keeper stole a few glances at the Listener half expecting him to bolt and run away. To his surprise, the lycandrake was quietly speaking with guards about their Argonian target under the guise of being a relative searching for his brother. Cicero managed to catch their conversation and overheard the guard say that they just missed the Argonian explaining that he headed east towards a Nordic ruin facing the bay near Solitude. The guard also slipped that a Khajit caravan had set up shop along the road and were preparing to sell their wares on the next day. “Thank you for the information. Perhaps the Caravan might have some berries from Riften in stock.” Usaeleí smiled but Cicero took the hint and retired to the inn but unlike last time, he would keep an eye on the little lizard. Their feline quarry was in sight but for now, they too would rest from their long journey. However, instead of returning to the inn, Usaeleí turned towards the worn-down trail leading to the Hold’s cemetery while collecting a few nightshade flowers and knelt before the now reburied casket of Helgi. 

As Usaeleí bowed his head in silence, he couldn’t help but be on edge. He felt something cold whisk around him and upon opening his eyes he found himself enveloped in a thick blanket of fog so thick he could cut it with a knife. 

“I remember you!” A shrill little voice exclaimed happily.

Usaeleí whirled around to find Helgi’s spirit before him smiling ever so sweetly. He felt his muscles tense and coil as he brandished his claws. “What are you doing here little one?”

“I wanted to thank you...” The tiny child said looking at the flowers resting on the mound, “You helped me and mama find peace. But I wanted to tell you that in person.”

“No thanks are needed hatchling.” The lycandrake shook his head before giving her a weak albeit wary smile, “Now, off you go. Your mother is waiting for you.” And with another wave, the child was gone. Usaeleí was about to meet up with Cicero when he caught scent of lotus and horn lily. Strange... He was more than certain that those scents did not belong to Skyrim. There was only one plant he knew of with a scent combination like that and they were found only in Black Marsh: Hist Bulbs. He took a deep breath finding the scent familiar. Too familiar. A memory from his youth flooded his mind then he saw what appeared to be an Argonian woman with sunshine-colored scales floating towards the outskirts of Morthal. _Vakka?_ He immediately sprinted after her.

He had only caught a glimpse of the Listener before he disappeared into the fog and Cicero went rigid. He was about to give chase when he heard the voice of an old woman behind him. “Your friend most likely saw someone once dear to him appear in the fog,” A finely dressed woman with two guards stated as they approached him. The woman’s guards gripped their weapons when Cicero unsheathed his daggers. The Jarl of Morthal raised her hand silently ordering the men to calm.

“What does the old Crow know about Cicero’s sweer lizard?” He demanded refusing to lower his weapon.

“The lands of Morthal have always had a strange connection with dead and necromantic energies. Previous Jarls believe that Morthal is cursed.” The old crone rasped as she stared at the Keeper then lifted her head in the direction Usaeleí was heading. “I surmise these energies are calling to him in a deeper manner. He is becoming attuned with death as you already are. But know this, he will need you more than ever now for old wounds resurface and bleed more clearly than scars.” The Keeper’s amber eyes narrowed suspiciously. _How does the old bird know?_ He wondered angrily as the old woman merely shook her head as if she had heard his thoughts, refusing to answer and her guards depart with her for the longhouse ahead. Cicero made a mental note to deal with the hag later but for now, he knelt down beside a footprint left by the lycandrake and he traced it slightly, he had a lizard to find.

“Vakka!” Usaeleí cried out to the Argonian woman who’s ghostly presence led him further into the marsh until she stopped at a small isle with twisted tree. Vaka turned towards him with the same gentle smile she always had. “It is good to see you again, Usaeleí.” She said in her gentle voice, “You’ve grown into a fine young Shadowscale.”

“Vakka...” His tongue felt heavy and his words choked within his throat as he tried to speak. So much to say but where to start. Vakka took his hands and though they were cold as ice, they felt solid. “You think I blame you for what happened that fateful day, don’t you?” She asked him. Usaeleí nodded. How could she not blame him? Usaeleí practically ripped his mother figure apart and feasted upon her like a mindless monster. The gold-colored lizard wrapped her arms around him in a long embrace feeling her former charge shudder and hug her back tightly, his breathy sobs causing her heart to ache. She lifted his chin, her scaly hand cupping his cheek and she rubbed a tear in his eye. “I have much to say and so little time. You must be strong and listen.” 

Usaeleí nodded his head slightly. Uncertain.

“You are not like other Argonians. In truth you are not entirely mortal either” The female lizard said in a hurried tone, “You are the Beast of Sithis. His wrath given form but in order to become bound to the plane of Nirn, you were given the blood of the beast. Lycanthropy.” Vakka suddenly vanished but in her place was a familiar monster, black in color drenched with blood red markings and long gleaming fangs. The old scars on the Argonian’s body began to burn as though freshly opened and he slowly backed away. Instinctively, Usaeleí tried to escape but systematically, the monster attacked. The claws raking the same way he was mauled the first time as a hatchling. The beast’s fangs bit and punctured the same places as well. “No!” The lycandrake’s cry echoed throughout the marsh catching the attention of the Keeper who was hot on his trail but he was still trying to find him in the thick fog. Usaeleí blinked when he felt the weight of the beast vanish from his body and immediately examined his body for any wounds only to find his old scars glowing a faint red. Did he hallucinate the attack? 

“But Sithis gave you that gift prematurely...” He heard Vakka say in a sad tone that echoed further away from him and he tried to follow her. However, his legs felt like they were made of lead as he tried to move only to stumble over something and he felt something warm and wet against his claws. At first, he thought it was the mud from the isle he was on, that is until he was face to face with a grisly sight. Vakka, torn to shreds, her limbs torn from her body. Her throat ripped open and several of her ribs were visible from very distinct claw marks. Her emerald eyes staring blankly at him with a hint of horror, sadness and surprise. He recoiled and tried to back away but his body was betraying him. The beast within needed to feed and here was a fresh meal. This isn’t real! He dug his claws into his skull and shook his head hoping to dispel whatever he was seeing. “You need to accept this to move on, little Shadowscale.” He refused to listen to whatever whispers the spirit was spouting to him. 

“Listener!” Usaeleí flinched as he scanned the dense fog. 

_Cicero?_

“Listener, where are you hiding?” Sounded the Keeper in a singsong voice, “Lonely Cicero is looking for you!” 

Usaeleí was about to answer when a pair of scaly hands reached from behind him, grasped his tail and dragged him under the water below. He felt claws and fangs attacking him and tear into his hide and in turn he slashed at his assailant. Whatever was attacking him certainly didn’t expect him whip around and attack back so it clamped it's jaws around his tail and proceeded to drag him further down until they were in the deepest part of the swamp. The lycandrake’s eyes were his only source of light as he growled before turning sharply, his tail connecting with the other Argonian’s maw with a dull crack. The dark colored lizard hissed shaking his head before he struck back at alarming speed, his teeth sinking into the lycandrake’s abdomen and vigorously tried to rip open the pale Argonian.

Usaelei's mismatched eyes glowed brightly, somewhere a faint heartbeat suddenly pulsed from deep within him and he felt a surge of energy course through him. With his now dagger like claws extended, the lycandrake drove them through his prey’s shoulder, forcing him to dislodge him and before the assailant could compose himself, several blurs of white slashed across his form. In less than a blink, the murky water darkened further and hordes of slaughterfish swarmed in to partake in the bloodied feast before them. Usaeleí coughed violently, air bubbles tinged with his blood escaping his maw in the water as the wounds on his side throbbed painfully and he desperately swam to the surface.

Cicero made a shrieking sound when he saw a muddied Listener drag himself towards the Imperial. The lycandrake shook his body like a wet dog, unintentionally flinging mud and dirt onto the jester who growl and hissed at the mess on his motley. As Usaeleí tried to stand he stumbled back down onto one knee as he held his side, the crimson rivers already seeping through his shirt staining it red.

“Found the damned lizard we were hunting.” Smirked the lycandrake as he closed one eye from the pain. Cicero smiled as he slung the Listener’s good arm over his shoulder and hauled him back to Morthal. He’d ask later about what happened in the mist. Once in the safety of their room, Usaeleí tossed his tunic aside and traced the now healing wounds with his claws. _Sithis he really tore into me..._ Usaeleí hissed at the tenderness of the wound, _I should have been more careful._

Cicero emerge a few moments later with some ointments and bandages. Since the Listener was not good at tending to wounds, he offered to treat them. He spared a glance at the lycandrake’s form as he stared into the flames, jeweled eyes gazing elsewhere that is until the Keeper approached to clean the wounds. After applying the ointment and bandaging up his precious lizard, the Keeper decided to distract the precious Listener with his revenge. 

“Pretty Lizard still owes dear sweet Cicero for last time.” Chimed the Keeper.

That pulled the Listener’s gaze away from the fire. Usaeleí gave Cicero a surprised and confused look. A few moments later, his mismatched eyes widen in realization but soon chuckled. He did, didn’t he? “Cicero is a bit out of practice,” The Keeper hummed as he leaned closer to the lizard’s cheek, his warm breath tickling his scales, “But I promise to be gentle.” The Fool grinned ear to ear at his Listener whose scales started to heat up with a delightful shade of pink. Usaeleí let out a surprised grunt as he found himself pinned on the bed by the Imperial’s strong grasp. He wanted to hiss, he wanted to snarl, however as he felt Cicero’s fingers ghost his scales leaving a trail of warmth and felt his forehead against his, Usaeleí found himself lost in the Keeper’s amber colored eyes.

“Relax...” Teased the Fool, “Cicero will be gentle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah first yaoi or anything regarding the topic ever. Please don't hurt me lol


	8. Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutt and fluff. Probably going to regret it lol
> 
> Chapter coming soon

Coming soon!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delays in my chapters, I'm dealing with a lot of death thanks to this virus and my work hasn't been helpful at all either. I promise to post more when I can


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